Thunderstorms
by rainbowdevice
Summary: The thunder rumbles, a low, quiet, drawn out symphony.


Thunder rumbles in the distance, pulling me out of a dream. Slowly, I sit up, looking blearily out the window. The sky is dark, gray clouds building a wall against the sky. A shock of lightning illuminates the city, and I count.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Sev-

And the thunder comes in, right on cue. Quickly, I move pull the blinds down and curtains in place. Not a moment too soon, because as I yank the pink silk across the window, another burst peeps through the slats. It's bright. And when the thunder hits, I hear Ravi pounding on Luke's door. Luckily, Zuri isn't afraid of thunder. She's all over the place when she sleeps, and I can't handle a bed full of crazy tonight.

The storms give me insomnia. I used to run to my mom when it hit, and she'd hold me until I fell asleep. I'd wake up in my bed with no memory of getting there. But then she started traveling and I grew up. But at times like these, I miss the old Christina Ross.

I don't fully surface from my thoughts as I burrow under the covers again. My spot is still warm, I note. Cozy. I train my gaze on the door and prepare for a long night.

Before long, I get bored and my eyes start wandering. Posters of Justin Starr and Jordan Taylor are everywhere, and they all seemed to be staring at me. I shudder. Those will totes be coming down tomorrow.

I refocus on the doorknob. It's moving in slow motion like a horror flick. My heart threatens to break through my chest and I open my mouth to scream as the door opens. But as two heads pop around the door, my fear washes away. It's my brothers.

I sigh. "What do you want?" I ask annoyedly, even though I already know the answer. Luke hugs Kenny tighter before replying. "Mrs. Kipling was scared so Ravi and I decided to come sleep in here." Ravi nods, and it's only then that I notice the leash in his hand. I sit up. "Oh, no way," I say in disbelief.

Their faces fall.

"But, Emma!"

"Please!"

"Think of the animals!"

I hold up a hand. They're just kids. And they're my brothers. "Fine. But the lizard's not sleeping in my bed again," I insist, and they both thank me profusely before rushing in and settling on my floor.

Everything is quiet until a strike of lightning makes us all jump and Ravi scream. A moment later, Zuri walks in boldly, "I heard Ravi shriek, so I figured we were all having a sleepover in Emma's room!" she explains to us, shoving me over and climbing in beside me.

I groan. "Okay you guys, have fun in here alone, cause I'm leaving," I say. There are way to many people an here, and there's no way they'll leave. They grumble half-hearted okays and byes as I climb over them and shut the door. As soon as the knob clicks,I hear furious scrambling and several loud shushes. I roll my eyes. I knew the boys'd be climbing in bed the second I left.

My hand drops from the handle as I walk to the next room. I tap the door, and it opens quickly, like Jessie was expecting me. Her knowing look is cut off by a yawn, and I felt her hand close loosely over my fingers as the other one reached to cover her mouth. She gently tugs me in and shut the door. I can tell there's questions coming.

"Can't sleep?"

"Uh huh."

"Kids in your room?"

"Uh huh."

"Zuri in your bed?"

"Uh huh."

"Again? What is it about your room?" she asks, throwing her hands up. "I dunno. It's not me, cause they don't care if I leave." I know it's a rhetorical question, but that doesn't stop me from answering. "And Ravi brought the lizard again." My hands mimic Jessie's before slapping to my sides. One of hers drops to her hip while the other caresses her jawline as she sighs. "That boy has got to stop using her as an excuse," she comments, and I nod.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed," Jessie says abruptly, changing the subject. Her hand takes mine, and for a second it feels like Mom again. I jump as lightning flashes suddenly, and I hear her chuckle as she nudges me to one side of the bed. I follow her unspoken command, slipping below the warm comforter and silken sheets. Behind me, I hear her doing the same.

The thunder rumbles, a low, quiet, drawn out symphony.

"You wanna tell me what's wrong?" Jessie's voice breaks the spell after a minute or so. "Not really," I reply almost without thinking. I hear a deep sigh from her side of the bed. "Just, not now." I fumble to correct myself. She shifts slightly. "Okay, well, if you ever want to talk, my door's open," she says, a motherly tone in her voice. But there's also the implication that it's not quite over.

I nod, even though she can't see my face. I flip over. "Thanks, Jessie," I say. "Anytime, Emma." She smiles at me, and her hand emerges from the sheets, tugging the blanket into place on my shoulder. "Now go to sleep," she murmurs, rolling onto her back. I scoot down in the comforter a little. "I'll try," I mutter. I haven't been focusing on the storm, on the ever-present patter or the bright flashes. But I know that as soon as Jessie goes quiet, my mind will wake back up.

She doesn't, though. She begins quietly telling me stories, memories of hers from Texas. Growing up militarian, the ups and downs of school, and her boyfriends. She shows no regret, not many emotions vocally, like she's telling me about someone else. But I can hear her choke up when she tells me about her grandmother, the love and pain when she describes her memories of her mom, and the haste to rush through high school. Through all of it, her voice remains soft and steady, spinning a warm cocoon around me. My eyes close and I sink into the bed.I focus on her voice until the world fades away.

* * *

I wake up in the morning with the rain still lashing the windows. A wave of coppery red hair obscures most of my vision, the gold dulled by the gray skies. I brush a clump of it off my nose and sit up with a yawn. Glancing back at my sleeping nanny, who looks like she'll be out for a while, I get up and tiptoe across the cold wood floor and out the door, shutting it quietly behind me. Another yawn hits me as I work my way through the silent penthouse and into the kitchen. The clock on the cabinet announces that it's almost seven - early for all of us.

I grab bowl of cut kiwi from the fridge and a fork before sitting down, nibbling at the cold fruit. The clock ticks away steadily, counting the seconds with quiet clicks. I finish one slice and spear another. It's so quiet, so dull, so boring. I check the time again, but it's barely been two minutes. Maybe Jessie and Bertram get up at seven thirty. Jessie wakes us up at eight, so I mean, probably. I just can't stand the loneliness. For a moment I consider going back to bed, but it'd be pointless. Everyone's asleep, and besides, we all meet downstairs anyways.

"Um, Emma, who're you talking to?" The last part of the sentence is almost unintelligible, mumbled through a yawn. I twist around, wondering how I didn't notice I was thinking aloud. "Uhh..." I stammer out, glancing up from my nails to tired brown eyes. "Myself?"

Jessie snorts with a smile, her hand ruffling my hair as she passes. I retort with an indignant "Hey!" which earns me another chuckle. I pull the elastic out of my hair and scowl as she pours water into the tea kettle. "What are you doing up so early?" she asks, her voice gritty with sleep. "I could ask you the same question," I reply. She gives me a strange glance. "I always get up at seven. What's your excuse?"

I awkwardly try fend off the question with another. "Does Bertram get up now too?" We laugh, but her eyes don't match that emotion. They just flick over my face, analyzing me curiously. Her eyes lock on mine. "As if. It'll be a good half-hour or so."

The pot whistles and she pours two cups of the pale green beverage. Steam rises from the maroon mugs in hot swirls. "You never did give me an answer on why you're up so early," she states, pulling the milk from the fridge. "Well, that's kinda what was bothering me last night," I admit. "Huh. I wouldn't have guessed," she says sarcastically. I make a face at her and she sighs, screwing the cap off the milk carton.

"Sorry, Emma. Well, do you want to talk about it?" Her voice has the same maternal quality that it did last night, but a hair more insistant. I take her up on her offer with a hesitant nod. My teeth begin to work at my lip.

She slides the milk back into the fridge and spoons sugar into the tea. I move to sit next to her on the island, half-forgotten kiwi in my hand. I set it on the granite with a clink and she passes me a mug. We cheers softly and sip. The creamy warmth spreads through my chest. It feels so good, combating the storms outside.

We don't talk for several minutes, just sit in comfortable company. With a jolt of surprise, I feel my lip begin to bleed from the unrelenting onslaught of my teeth. Jessie notices too, and her thumb gently pries my lip away. She examines it carefully, and I don't protest. I haven't had any attention like this in years, someone caring for me without anyone else. She grabs a napkin and dabs gently at the raw patch. She wets a clean corner with a flick of her tongue and uses that to finish her work. With one final scan, she releases me.

She'll make a great mother one day, I realize. And suddenly I don't want to make fun of her for not being able to keep a man, no matter how much she tries. I wouldn't want to be in her shoes, but it seemed that I was already walking her path.

I glance surreptitiously up at Jessie, who's sipping her tea. I can see her watching me out of the corner of her eye. On an impulse, I stretch my arms toward her like a child. She reacts the same way, pulling me onto her lap. I curl up as best I can, and she strokes my hair gently.

"Hey, are you okay?" she murmurs into my hair. "It's just that," I pause shakily, shifting my legs against her chest. "You'd be a great mother." Jessie shifts to meet my gaze. Emotions swirl beneath the cocoa surface, but her mouth isn't forming words. She's processing everything, and the end result is a simple sentence.

"What?" She sounds so confused, but she doesn't babble like she usually will. I lick my lips nervously. "You're twenty, and you'll be working her for probably eleven more years," I begin. She nods uncertainly. "And you take care of us like we're yours." A smile breaks out on her face. "I do, don't I?" she says shyly, tucking hair behind my ear.

"Yes, you do. You've been a better guardian than either of my parents. But my parents wouldn't want you having a kid because it would distract you from your job. Plus, you probably won't want kids after us," I finish with a sigh, and I can see the confusion return. "Wait, better than your parents?" she asks finally. I nod, but she looks doubtful still.

"I love them and all, but you said it yourself, when you first got here. They're never around. They only come if business calls." She opens her mouth to protest, but I can see her slowly realize I'm right. "I-" She breaks off, but tries again. "Emma, I-" She can't finish. She just pulls me close, and I know this one isn't for me. It's for her. So I hug her back tightly and our heartbeats combine. "I'm sorry," she whispers, and I smile. "I have you, don't I?" "Always," she replies, and we stay like that for a few more minutes, not moving, not talking, just letting the moment last. It's peaceful and quiet, the sound of us breathing, our heartbeats, the rise and fall of her chest, and the warmth we share.

Eventually, we come out of our thoughts and the moment's over. We both sigh and I unwind from my cramped position. Once I'm repositioned on my stool, we go back to our tea like nothing happened. But I can feel that our dynamic has shifted. And I'm not sure it's all good.

But I push the thought away as we chat idly. I can't help but notice the little things we do that we wouldn't have before. She bumps me with her knee, I grab her arm to examine a normally concealed tattoo, she fiddles with my nails, and I feed her a slice of kiwi. Although the air is comfortable, it seems unusual. I drain the last of my tea. Jessie pushes hers at me. I accept it gratefully.

"So um, you know how you asked me why I couldn't sleep?" Jessie nods innocently. My teeth recapture my lip. "Well, you know about my insomnia and all but-" The rain has gone from a light mist to pounding at the roof in less than a second. I continue more quietly. "It's about Bryn."

Her face morphs to protective as quickly as the rain. "What did she do?" she growls. "Nothing," I assure her quickly. Some of the fire drops from her eyes. "Then what about her?" Jessie grabs a piece of fruit. I sip the tea, tasting cherry chapstick on the mug. "I...um...I think I like her."

The redhead meets my eyes. "Like her how?" I blink away from those brown eyes, feeling heat flood my face. She watches me, a worried expression on her face. "Listen, Emma, I always encourage you to chase your crush, but Bryn is bad news. She's tried so hard to hurt you, and I don't want to see it happen again. Please, trust me on this one." Her voice was so gentle, so genuine, so concerned.

Her hands grip mine firmly, and I can see the urgency in her eyes. But I pull away. "But what if she's being mean because she likes me?" I point out. Jessie's thumbs fight for dominance in her lap. "I've been in the same situation over and over. They tell you they love you, keep it a secret, make it special. But you realize that they never really loved you and were just using you when you see them kissing someone else." Her gaze had dropped to her hands in the middle of the speech.

I switch the subject. "Have you ever been with a girl?" I ask. Her eyes slowly sweep over me until she reaches my eyes. I can see hesitance but also a challenge in them. She wants me to fight her for it. So I hold her steadily, boldly.

We remain transfixed until the door swings open and Zuri walks in. "Man, Emma, your bed is comfortable," she comments brightly. I groan and stand up, setting the mugs in the sink. "Zuri, why do you guys always go to Emma's room?" I hear from behind me.

The girl shrugs. "I dunno. I just follow the others." With that, she opens the fridge and grabs a glass of orange juice. Jessie deposits the unfinished bowl of fruit in the fridge and begins making coffee. Uncertain of what to do, I excuse myself to go to the restroom.

I come out with untangled hair and clean teeth. Luke and Ravi look half-asleep, and Ravi's head keeps nodding, coming dangerously close to his apple juice. Jessie pushes it away at the last second. Ravi's head hits the table and stays there. "Jessie," Luke grumbles, "I want waffles."

She snorts. "Remember what happened last time I tried to cook?" She looks at all of us, and we shudder in unison. Luke holds up a hand. "Okay, never mind. When will Bertram be up?" He inquires, and she rolls her eyes, taking her seat at the island.

I slide in beside Zuri as Bertram shoves open the door with an annoyed grumble. "Well, good morning to you too, Bertram," Jessie says pointedly. He glares at her. "Is the coffee ready?" he asks instead. She glances back. "Yeah, pour yourself some." She stands up again and grabs herself a mug. A snore issues from across the table. All of us glance over as Zuri snaps and yells, "Ravi! Wake up!" He sits up with a scared shout. His head whips around before he meets the eye of the girl sitting across from him. "Zuri!" He says exasperatedly.

I stand up quietly, glancing at Jessie. She opens an arm and I scurry over there as they begin to fight. "Things are gonna get real," I comment, and Bertram and Jessie nod anxiously.

We settle into idle chatter as they debate. Bertram begins to make pancakes, occasionally joining in. He seems a lot more surly than usual this morning. He perks up some once he has his coffee, though.

Jessie holds her mug between the palms of her hands and inhales the scent deeply with closed eyes. I watch her curiously. I like the smell, I guess. It doesn't smell bad, at least, just strong. Her lips capture the rim and she takes a delicate sip. She hums appreciatively, and her eyes open. She doesn't let go of the mug, just keeps it in her hand. Her long eyelashes sweep down once before she meets my gaze.

She licks her lips, pausing in the middle as she notices my interest in the dark liquid she holds. She retracts her tongue. "Do you like coffee?" She sounds open and cheery. I shrug, regarding it. "I dunno," I reply, glancing up. Her eyes sparkle. "Do you want to try it?" She has a note of mirth in her words. "Okay," I say nervously. Bertram's paused to watch me. I don't mind being the center of attention, but they seem to be waiting for something hilarious.

Jessie hands me the warm purple cup. I glance furtively up at her and there it is again, that note of challenge. I hold it defiantly for a second, then raise her mug to my lips and take a mouthful. First, I taste the cherry chapstick again, but weaker, and it trembles before vanishing. My mouth is filled with a slightly bitter and not entirely unpleasant flavor. I swallow and take another drink, then one more, just to be sure. I pass it back to my nanny, meeting her incredulous eyes. "Not bad," I say thoughtfully.

She blinks, then smiles at me. I return it, but I can't help thinking that there was something weird about her expression. The smile didn't quite reach her eyes again. Jessie takes a sip and Bertram turns away, disappointed. Her expression changes, but only slightly. Her face is thoughtful, but I can tell she's not focused on coffee. She's watching the kids without really watching them, her distant eyes on them.

She turns back to me after a minute, focused again. Something flashes in her eyes, and she murmurs a single word, an answer to a forgotten question, too quiet for Bertram to hear. "Yes."


End file.
